


First Come, First Served

by Shadowpingers



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Crack, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentioned Scions of the Seventh Dawn, More tags to be added, Multi, Other, Swearing, Voyeurism, angery WoL is angery, self indulgent bullshit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 15:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19726786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowpingers/pseuds/Shadowpingers
Summary: The Warrior of Light goes to the First to bring... well, not Light - they've got plenty of that. Blissfully unaware that his mind and body are splitting apart at the seams, he does the Crystal Exarch's bidding, for what else is he meant to do?Urianger worries for him, dearly. And as for old mate Emet-Selch... well. La HEE!





	First Come, First Served

**Author's Note:**

> yo i finished shb in like two weeks and here's how my Warrior of Light went through it!  
> theres probably gonna be hornyposting with urianger and emet-selch and probs ardbert voyeurism at some point, but don't worry, I'll tag it appropriately :D
> 
> Spoiler warnings are noted at the beginning of each chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers here beyond lv71 MSQ.

He’s been stuffing around the Crystarium for some time now, this supposed Warrior of Light or Darkness or what-have-you; five and a half fulms of mage-flavoured cat running all over the place like he hasn’t got a world to save. Two, for that matter – he seems to have forgotten this in his excitement to _explore_ , chattering away at Bragi, the Master of Markets who’s all too happy to explain the way things work here. Never mind the way the Warrior keeps poking at him and waving his tail – it’s good to have _someone_ interested in the goings-on of their little society.

The Crystal Exarch watches from his portal up in the Ocular, one glassy blue finger stroking his chin in thought. This Warrior, he thinks, doesn’t look a thing like he imagined. He’d envisioned someone tall and strong with eyes like the sun and searing wit to match. Instead, he pulled from the Source a nebulous presence he can make neither heads nor tails of, excited one minute, seething the next. Sometimes, the man even seems more brooding and mysterious than _himself_ – and if the secrets he keeps are any indication, that can’t possibly be good. Still, it’s better than nothing – this Warrior is supposedly stronger than all the others combined, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn who’ve each had their turn chewing out the Exarch for his untimely yet wholly necessary summonings.

 _‘They were just upset that I summoned them naked._ ’ the Exarch thinks, chuckling softly at the memory of Y’shtola’s outrage and Urianger’s embarrassment. Thancred seemed to have gone through this before. _‘What fortune that the Warrior came in one piece!’_ He eyes the man waving to Bragi and sprinting off yet again, lithe legs bearing him into the everlasting daylight. _‘…Strange, that he should be so energetic on his own yet subdued in my presence. A force of habit, perhaps? How many foreign leaders has he had to appease to further his own goals?’_ The Exarch wants to look away, to get back to minding his own damn business and preparing the next bit of carefully filtered information to feed his new ally. Instead, he zooms in to the Warrior’s face – smooth and youthful, with rich golden curls spilling around fluffy triangular ears down to his shoulders. The Exarch nibbles on his finger – not too hard, for it is thoroughly crystalline and he’d much like to keep his teeth for another few decades. _‘What a lovely little thing he is. I do hope he’s as strong as they say. Perhaps I should test him…? Yes, that would not be entirely remiss.’_ He reaches a few ilms towards the portal, tracing the outline of the Warrior’s angular jaw with slim, stiff fingers. ‘ _A little jaunt in Kholusia, or maybe even Amh Araeng… He’ll be very glad to meet up with his friends, and maybe then once he knows they’ve come to no harm, he’ll be a bit more settled_.’ The Exarch knows it’ll take years for any real trust to set in, but they simply don’t have the time. _‘For now… you shall have to play Hero for a world you do not know, and pray that it is enough.’_

\---

The Warrior sits in Lakeland, somewhere near enough to the Crystarium that he doesn’t have to worry about random beasts interrupting his brooding time. And he _has_ to brood – dressed from head to toe in the jet black traveling outfit Tataru made for him, it doesn’t really feel right to do much else. They seem to flick on and off, his moods, from the joy of exploring a new area to standing still in said area and feeling the realization set in of what he has to do. It’s exactly the same as it was back home – run here, run there, do this, kill that.

 _‘No wonder this place is on the brink of destruction.’_ he thinks, running leather-gloved fingers through pink and purple flowers. _‘Nobody here knows how to do anything for themselves. Ah… people really are the same, aren’t they? Wherever I go…’_ He looks around. The sky burns his eyes whenever he tries to discern shapes amidst the Everlasting Light, while he lacks a proper map to guide him to his next destination. He doesn’t have a single clue where he _is_ other than Lakeland, the land with the lake, and sighs heavily. _‘What am I even doing here…? I’m the Warrior of Light, and these fuckers certainly seem to have enough of that.’_ He shuts his eyes, ripping a handful of flowers from the ground and scattering them to the wind. _‘Should just get a whole bunch of Ascians to shit all over the place and make it dark again. Wouldn’t that be something…?’_ The softest laugh slips through his lips, and he presses a hand to his mouth. He can’t stop himself giggling at the image of a thousand dancing Ascians wreaking havoc on this blighted, bleached land, saving him the work of doing the Crystal Exarch’s bidding and yet more menial tasks for a whole lot of thankless strangers. He doesn’t _care_ to save one man’s livelihood or one mother’s child – after working on the bigger picture for so long, saving nations and now worlds from the edge of oblivion, he _can’t_. The Warrior doesn’t remember when he stopped caring and just did as he was told because the Scions deemed it necessary. Nor can he remember when the Scions stopped mattering and he tried less and less to appease them. Lyse’s delicate sensibilities around the Garleans. Alphinaud’s tendency to play leader when he thought no-one was watching. Alisaie’s harsh complaints and Thancred’s insufferable (yet not entirely unwarranted) attitude. Indeed, the only one the Warrior seemed able to tolerate was Urianger, for the Elezen scholar always seemed to have _something_ interesting nestled within his flowery speech. And now, the Warrior hasn’t the slightest clue how to get in contact with him, due to Urianger being in ‘a hard to reach place’ according to the Exarch.

 _‘Fuck your hard to reach places.’_ The Warrior hauls himself up, drawing his rapier and slicing a few times through the air. _‘Urianger would know what to do. That fancy bastard knows **everything**. Gods, I don’t want to deal with the twins yet. Alisaie in the Dark was bad enough. Though… if Urianger **did** have a solution to all this primordial Light business, he probably would’ve done something about it by now. __Gaaah…’_ Swishing his sword around won’t get him anywhere, but it sure does feel good. Not as good as when it pierces an enemy somewhere fatal, but it’s enough to distract him from the dread attached to his thoughts.

A little time passes in which the world remains unchanged, bright and beautiful with the fragrant flowers at his feet swaying gently in the midday breeze. Or afternoon. Hell, it could be the middle of the night and he wouldn’t have a single clue. The Warrior isn’t often one to procrastinate – he _shouldn’t_ , not with two worlds to save and more dire circumstances than he’s ever faced before. But he’ll triumph, this he knows – he always does. That’s all he’s good for, now – he’s even forgotten his own damned name.

At least he can win his battles as a legendary figure instead of a real person, former adventurer, a man who’s never lived his own life.

**Author's Note:**

> la HEE


End file.
